


effervescence, or lack thereof

by alainon



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Gen, capriweek2017, capriweek2k17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 19:02:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11652756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alainon/pseuds/alainon
Summary: To deny himself the fact that he was beautiful would be to deny that he had a brain at all.





	effervescence, or lack thereof

**Author's Note:**

> tldr been a while since i've written, i'm not the proudest but this ain't too shabby  
> thanks for reading <3 #capriweek2k17 day one: sapphires

Jewels as tiny as a newborn's fingernails are crested down his collarbone, rubies sparkling in the morning glow and gold kissing his cheeks awake—cheeks that are already raw with the salt of humiliation and fear.

The other pet ignores his sniffles, pressing another pea of putty to the back of a jewel and then thumbing it into place—this one uncomfortably close to a nipple. Nicaise scowls and tosses an arm up in retaliation, and receives no more than a gentle shove in reply; even here, no one will take his rebellion seriously. There is no home in the world for him, and no house that will see his anger and raise him to recognition. That is what hurts the most.

His effervescence must be tangible, because finally Alois, his only company and also a major pain in his ass, sighs and pulls back. "Whenever you're ready to stop blubbering over yourself, you've got a man to please. And a hungry one, at that." The statement sends chill bumps running down Nicaise's arms, and he pictures who this man must be—old, ugly and mean, of course. Any man who wants a child must be. But he must be lonely, too, the boy realizes with a shudder. Loneliness is a feeling that is all too familiar for him, and Nicaise can't help but pity the one that desires him, despite the sick feeling it places low in his belly. He would never wish loneliness—true loneliness—upon anyone, not even a perverted old man. _Perhaps that's why you're in this position now, you foolish whore._

"One last thing, if you're interested."

Nicaise turns to look back at Alois, and he's expecting another fight, but instead he's greeted with perhaps the most beautiful shade of blue he has ever seen in his life. An audible gasp is his response, for once not a bitingly sarcastic comment, and the boy creeps forward despite the anxiety nipping at his heels—or perhaps that is what drives him forward in the first place. There is no longer a difference as long as he's moving.

The pet smiles as if the last two hours hadn't even happened, and Nicaise smiles in return, beginning to feel a bit guilty for the hell he's put the slave through. Not that he'd ever admit to such character development; his pride is the only thing keeping him alive at this point, and to admit defeat even once would be to offer his neck up for slaughter. Still, he could have been a bit easier to manage; one might have thought that Nicaise had been drugged, kidnapped, and dragged in from the streets against his will, for the way he fought. No one would have thought that this had been consensual, or at least as consensual as a child can manage.

Nicaise has to remind himself that it is consensual.

Alois, approaching carefully, seems to note the change in tone. "If you sit, I'll put them on you," he offers. He nods to the gilded chair, and Nicaise obliges.

The jewels, although small, are bigger than the others spread from his neck to his hips and everywhere in between, and where the others are more warm in color—reds as rich as Veretian silk and ambers the color of the rarest champagnes—these are a blue deeper than any ocean Nicaise could ever dream of dipping his toes into. His breath hitches when Alois begins the fine detail of sticking them into place.

Maybe it is because he wishes to be very precise in his craft, or perhaps he simply enjoys the silence, but it takes Alois much longer to apply the small handful of jewels to Nicaise's cheek than it had to cover the rest of him in rubies and amber. After what feels like an hour, the older pet holds up a mirror for Nicaise to look.

To deny himself the fact that he was beautiful would be to deny that he had a brain at all. Nicaise smiles at himself in the mirror and immediately is struck by the absurd childishness of it—he is about to be bedded, he is no child, not any longer—and the boy lets the smile fall. Much better. Nicaise surveys the pet's work in choosing his outfit and dressing him with a critical eye in the mirror: normally, he'd been informed, he would be wearing pants and sleeved shirts that hid his milky skin from the hungry eyes of castle visitors. For his first day, however, Nicaise is standing in a slip. A short romper made of soft, flowing material that does nothing to hide his body from a curious eye billows from his abdomen, and small golden cuffs hug the cartilage of his ear. Around each ankle, a thin gold chain connects gracefully to a ring around a middle toe to appear as if he were wearing sandals, but his feet are truly bare, and everywhere, _everywhere_ , he is sparkling with jewels. Down his left cheek trail sapphires, like glistening teardrops.

He reaches out and touches a finger to his reflection, spins, admires himself. The way the sun catches the light on his slim bones, how gracefully he turns. Finally, he sighs and glances away. "Okay. I'm ready to go." His heart is racing, and it is only his sapphires that hold him together.


End file.
